Where No Hacker Has Gone Before
by Jamie August
Summary: X-Files meets Star Trek: The Next Generation. The Lone Gunmen somehow end up on the Enterprise, where they proceed to drive Picard nuts.


_Disclaimer: Everything X-Files belongs to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and FOX. Everything Star Trek belongs to Paramount the mighty. Everything else (yeah, right, WHAT else?) is mine. No disrespect or infringement intended. Don't sue me, I'm broke._

_Summary: The Lone Gunmen (yeah, those conspiracy theorist computer geeks from the X-Files) somehow end up on the Enterprise. Uh, madness ensues and stuff._

_Comments: Yes, please. You can also email to: [augustdragon81@netscape.net][1]_

_Archiving: Ask me. _

_Author's Note: Ahh, here we go. For you Trekkies (or TrekkERs if you prefer) who may not know the X-Files so well, let me just tell you that "Frohike" is pronounced "Fro-hickey". Who cares, right? Just thought I'd write that, though. I know that every time I see it, I want to pronounce it "Fro-hike", just the way it's spelled. Er, nevermind. Shut up and get on with the story, right? (heh, I wonder how many people I just pissed off by insinuating you don't know how to pronounce the dude's name. . .)_

* * *

  
  


# Where No Hacker Has Gone Before

by: Jamie August 

**********   
  
  
  


"Commander Riker, there is an intruder alert on deck thirteen."   
  


"What?" Riker turned to face the security officer who had spoken. "What is it?"   
  


"Uh, well, it appears to be three human life-signs, sir."   
  


Riker sighed. _'Appears to be?' Boy, do I wish Worf was still onboard. Now **there **was a security officer! _"All right, get a security team together and meet me there." He glanced at Counselor Troi in the seat next to his. "Deanna, why don't you come along, too?"   
  


"All right. But, Will? Shouldn't you alert the captain to the situation?"   
  


"Not until I know what the situation _is_." Riker grinned. "Besides, it's the middle of the night. I don't want to wake him up. You know he's no good until his second cup of Earl Grey."   
  


Deanna smiled. "Aye, sir."   
  


* * *   
  


"Whoa, Langly, check this out!" Frohike placed his hand on one of the computer displays that ran the length of the hall.   
  


Byers quickly stepped forward. "Hey, I really don't think we should touch anything."   
  


"Yeah, yeah, of course you don't. What the hell have you gotten us into this time, Do-hickey?" Langly asked, shoving Frohike into the wall.   
  


"Me? Listen here, you long-haired hippie punk - -"   
  


"Uh, guys?" Byers broke in. "I think we may have trouble." He pointed down the hall, where Commander Riker and Counselor Troi had just appeared.   
  


* * *   
  


"Where's that security team?" Riker muttered as the 'intruders' came into view. "You'd think with all the trouble the Federation's been through lately, we could at least get some decent security officers! Is that too much to ask?"   
  


"Of course not, Will," Deanna soothed.   
  


"Hmph. Well, what do you make of these guys?"    
  


Deanna studied the three men as she and Will drew closer. "Not much, sir."   
  


Riker laughed softly, then raised his voice to the men. "Hey! Who are you and what are you doing on the _Enterprise_?"   
  


The short grizzled one of the bunch walked toward him. "I'd like to know the same thing, mister."   
  


Frowning, Riker asked, "You don't know who you are?"   
  


"Of course I know who I am!" The man slapped his forehead in frustration. "I meant, what are we doing here? Why did you bring us here?"   
  


"Why did we - -" Light dawned in Riker's eyes. "Oh, boy. Would you excuse me for just a moment?"   
  


* * *   
  


"This had better be good, Number One." Captain Picard was not happy about being dragged out of bed at this late hour. As the turbo-lift halted, he glared at his First Officer. "I mean it, Riker. If this is something you could have handled on your own, so help me, God - -"   
  


"Believe me, sir, you'll want to see this for yourself."   
  


Picard sighed. "Fine. Where are they now?"   
  


"In your conference room. Along with Data, Geordi, Deanna, and Dr. Crusher."   
  


"Why Data and Geordi? Number One, who is flying the ship?"   
  


Riker shrugged. "Aren't Geordi and Data in on all these adventures? And I left some lieutenant in charge of the bridge."   
  


Fortunately, they reached the conference room at that moment, saving Picard from responding. As he took his seat at the head of the conference table, he regarded the intruders curiously. "I am Jean-Luc Picard, captain of the _Enterprise_. How did you come to be onboard this vessel?"   
  


"We don't _know_," the unshaven one replied. "I was on the computer, hacking into the CIA database - -"   
  


The man with long blond hair snorted. "No, you weren't. You were downloading porn from NaughtyNymphos dot com."   
  


"Shut up, Langly!"   
  


"Well, you were."   
  


Picard slammed his hands down on the table. "Gentlemen, please! Will one of you just tell me how you got here? You," he pointed at the clean-cut man who had remained silent so far. "You tell me how the three of you got here."   
  


The man nodded. "My name is John Byers. That's Langly -" he indicated the long-haired man - " - and Frohike."    
  


"Are they always like that?" Riker interrupted.   
  


"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"   
  


Byers ignored Frohike and nodded. "Most of the time. Anyway, there's not much to tell. We were in our apartment going about our own business. Then, without any warning, we were here. That's really about it."   
  


Picard shook his head wearily. These men were obviously not from the twenty-fourth century. "What year is it where you come from?" he asked, dreading the answer.   
  


"It's the year two thousand. What year is it here?"   
  


"You don't want to know. Late twenty-fourth century." Picard glanced over at Riker. "Do you suppose this is Q's doing?"   
  


"Maybe it's that 'Author' person, Captain. Remember how much she screwed with us in her last story?"   
  


Picard glared at the commander. "I thought I told you never to mention that to me again, Number One."   
  


"Hey, Captain," Geordi spoke up, "I think we still have that Karoake machine somewhere."   
  


"Mr. La Forge!"   
  


Geordi hid a smile. "Sorry, sir."   
  


Frohike chose that moment to leer across the table at Deanna Troi. "Hell-oo, pretty lady."   
  


Deanna stared at him for an instant, then slapped his face and stalked out of the room.   
  


"Hey! What did I do?!"   
  


Snickering, Langly nudged him. "See? I _told_ you you have that effect on women!"   
  


"She's an empath," Riker informed Frohike. "She probably sensed what you were thinking."   
  


"Oh." Frohike raised his eyebrows. "Well, I guess that would explain it, then."   
  


"Captain Picard," Byers began, "do you have any idea how to get us back to our own time?"   
  


"I'm afraid not." He sighed. "For the moment, I'm going to assign you some guest quarters. When we find out what is going on here, I'll contact you."   
  


The door slid open and a very confused security team rushed in. Looking sheepish, the lead security officer holstered his phaser. "Sorry we're late, Commander!"   
  


Riker glared menacingly at the young officer. "Where have you been? You were supposed to be here half an hour ago."   
  


"Uh, we got lost?"   
  


"Don't let it happen again! I have half a mind - -"   
  


Langly snickered.   
  


"- - to bust you down to ensign!"   
  


"Um, sir? I _am_ an ensign."   
  


"Don't argue with me, Ensign! Now, escort these three men to guest quarters immediately!"   
  


As everyone filed out of the room, Picard frowned at Riker. "I really think you should cut back on your red meat intake, Number One."   
  


"Aye, Captain."   
  


* * *   
  


"Langly, what are you doing?"   
  


Glancing up at Byers, Langly grinned. "Oh, come on. Aren't you the least bit curious about what's in this ship's computer?"   
  


Frohike snorted derisively and tapped his fist on the console. "Let him try. He'll never get into the files on this baby."   
  


Langly slapped his hand away from the screen. "Hey, if it's a computer, I can hack it. Watch."   
  


"Oh, yeah?"   
  


"Yeah."   
  


* * *   
  


"Captain, someone is going through the files in the ship computer."   
  


Picard hung his head. "I don't want to hear about it, Mr. Data. Will somebody please just figure out a way to send them back to their own time? And get me a cup of Earl Grey while you're at it."   
  


* * *   
  


"See? I told you my kung fu was the best!" Langly crowed.   
  


Byers rolled his eyes. "Aren't either one of you concerned with how we got here? Or how we're going to get home?"   
  


"Hmm? Oh, yeah, right," Frohike muttered absently, engrossed in the information spilling across the computer screen. "Hey, it's too bad Mulder and Scully aren't here. There's information in here that solves every X file they ever came to us with!"   
  


"Really?" Giving in to curiosity, Byers pulled up a chair. "Move over. Maybe we can figure out a way to download it to them. . ."   
  


* * *   
  


Picard sat behind the desk in his ready room, feeling better able to handle the situation now that he'd finished his first cup of Earl Grey. "This _must_ be one of Q's little pranks, Will. I'm convinced it is."   
  


In the chair across from him, Riker shook his head. "I don't think so, Captain. If it were Q, he'd have shown himself by now to gloat. Besides, last time you thought it was Q, and it turned out to be the Author. Maybe it's her again this time."   
  


"But, Number One, by this time last time, she had shown herself. If this is the Author's doing, why hasn't she let us know yet? If it is her, she should be openly laughing at us by now. Don't you agree?"   
  


Riker shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe there's a reason the Arthur hasn't - -"   
  


"The Arthur?"   
  


"Excuse me, sir?" Riker asked, puzzled.   
  


"You said 'the Arthur', Will." Picard explained patiently.   
  


"I did?" Riker furrowed his brow. "I meant 'Author'. Why would I have said 'Arthur'?"   
  


"Heh, heh. Oops, that was my fault. Sorry, guys. I was eating McDonald's fries, and my fingers slipped on the keyboard. Those fries are mighty greasy, you know."   
  


Picard groaned. "So this _is_ your work, Author. We're trapped in another of your twisted little stories, aren't we?"   
  


After a minute of silence went by, Picard raised an eyebrow at Riker, who just shrugged. "Author?"   
  


"Author?"   
  


"What!? Sheez, Jean-Luc, I'm trying to eat a chicken sandwich here. Even authors need to _eat_, you know!"   
  


Picard shrank back, worried. "You're not going to make me sing twentieth-century country songs again, are you?"   
  


Riker laughed. "Oh, come on, sir. I thought you sounded great."   
  


"Now, now, Jean-Luc. Stop giving Will the evil eye. Since I am the reckoning force here, he isn't really responsible for his actions."   
  


"I'm not?" Riker took out his phaser and pointed it at the captain.   
  


"Uh, wait a minute there, Will! That's not exactly what I meant. Remember, I can write a court martial and a murder trial into this story if you force me to."   
  


Riker dropped the phaser as Picard snapped his fingers and smiled in grim satisfaction. "Then you're saying there _is_ free will within your stories! Not everything we do is necessarily dictated by you."   
  


"No, you pretty much have to do what I want you to. If there _was_ free will, how do you explain singing 'Achy Breaky Heart' the last time we met?"   
  


Picard slumped in his chair, realizing the truth in this statement. "Met? We've never met. You are just a disembodied voice to us."   
  


"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Wasn't there something a little more important on your mind?"   
  


"Well, I suppose there was. Why did you bring these," Picard paused, at a loss for words.    
  


"Lone Gunmen?"   
  


"Lone what?" Riker questioned the Author.   
  


"Lone Gunmen. That's what those three are known as in their own time. They run a conspiracy theory newsletter. Hey, but you know all about 'Conspiracy Theory', don't you, Captain?"   
  


"What are you talking about?" Picard asked in exasperation.   
  


"Ha, ha. Oops, that's not _Picard_. That's Patrick Stewart. Nevermind."   
  


"Who the devil is Patrick Stewart?" Picard demanded. "Author?"   
  


"Ooh. Sorry, Jean-Luc. I just snorted lemonade out my nose. Ow, that hurt!"   
  


Riker doubled over in laughter, then attempted to maintain a straight face when he saw the look Picard shot his way. "Sorry, sir."   
  


Resisting the nearly uncontrollable urge to start throwing things, Picard clenched his teeth. "All right. What are these 'Lone Gunmen' doing on my ship? I demand to know why you brought them here."   
  


"Well, at the moment they're getting drunk on Romulan ale, but I bet that's not what you meant, is it? Um, the reason I brought them here. . . The reason I brought them here is. . ."   
  


If he had had any hair, Picard would have been ripping it out. "_Please_ tell me you had a reason for bringing them here!"   
  


"Captain, if I may?" Riker waited until Picard nodded to continue. "The last time the Author messed with our world, it was simply to alleviate our boredom. She just made sure we had some fun for a while - -"   
  


"Fun?!" Picard exploded. "I would _not_ call forcing me to sing country songs for three hours straight _fun_, Number One!"   
  


Riker shrugged. "It was fun for the rest of us."   
  


"See, Jean-Luc? You just need to lighten up. Besides, I _do_ have a reason for bringing the Gunmen here. Hmm, just give me a second. . . ."   
  


* * *   
  


"Hey you guys, watch this!" Langly jumped off the chair he'd been sitting in and stretched out, floating in mid-air. "I told you hacking into the gravity control was a good idea."   
  


The other two Gunmen clutched their glasses of Romulan ale and laughed. Byers held up his glass and inspected the blue liquid. "You know, this stuff is pretty terrible."   
  


"Yeah, but it sure does the trick." Frohike pointed at the few drops of ale suspended above Byers' glass. "Better watch that, man. Don't wanna spill any on the ceiling."   
  


"Ooh, right." Byers stood up a little too quickly and ended up floating alongside Langly. "Oops. Hey, uh, you didn't readjust the gravity in the bathroom, did you?"   
  


* * *   
  


". . .um. . ."   
  


Picard tapped his foot impatiently. "Well? It's been a bit longer than a second."   
  


"Just hold on, will ya? I know there's a reason I wanted them in this story. I'm thinking, okay?"   
  


* * *   
  


"Hey, Frohike?"   
  


"What, Byers?"   
  


"I forgot."   
  


"Oh."   
  


"Hey, Langly?"   
  


"What, Byers?"   
  


"Um, I forgot."   
  


"Oh."   
  


"Hey, Langly."   
  


"What, Frohike?"   
  


"Byers is drunk."   
  


"No shit."   
  


* * *   
  


"Well?"   
  


"Gimme a break, Jean-Luc. Why do you have to have a reason for everything? Look at Will. He doesn't need to know my every motive, do you Riker?"   
  


Riker shrugged. "I'm just waiting for you to break out the Karoake machine again."   
  


* * *   
  
  
  


"Hey, Frohike?"   
  


"Byers, if you say 'I forgot', I'm gonna punch you."   
  


"Oh. Okay."   
  


"So?"   
  


"So what?"   
  


Frohike sighed. "Nevermind."   
  


* * *   
  


"Author? Are you there?"   
  


"Yeah. Sorry, I kinda zoned out on ya, didn't I? Jean-Luc, I've decided that the point of this story is that there is no point to this story. I figure, if Q can come around and subject you to pointless little games, then so can I. Look at it this way: at least I'm not putting you on trial for all of humankind. And it could be worse. At least I'm not making you run around dressed like Robin Hood and his Merry Men. Although that's not such a bad idea. I think Q really had something going there. . ."   
  


"Um, Author?" Riker broke into her meanderings. "Would you like to get back to _this_ story now?"   
  


"Oh! Yeah, right. Thank you, Will."   
  


* * *   
  


"Hey, Langly?"   
  


"Byers, I'm warning you. . ."   
  


"No, look! The captain just appeared behind you."   
  


Langly turned and saw a bewildered Captain Picard floating toward the ceiling. "Oh, yeah. Look, Melvin, the captain's here."   
  


Frohike kicked out at Langly, missing him by a drunken mile. "Don't call me Melvin, punk."   
  


"But it's your name." Langly smirked in satisfaction.   
  


"So? I don't call you 'Ringo', do I?"   
  


"Hey, wait a minute. How did the captain get here?" Langly narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Picard. "How did you get in here, Captain?"   
  


"It's a long story. I take it you haven't had any run-ins with the Author yet, then?" Picard grabbed the wall and carefully lowered himself to the floor. "Do you know it's against regulations to alter the environmental controls?"   
  


"The what?"   
  


The captain rubbed his eyes tiredly. "The _gravity_, Mr. Frohike, the _gravity._ You are not permitted to alter it."   
  


"I didn't. Ringo did."   
  


"Hey, don't call me Ringo, _Melvin_!"   
  


"Ringo."   
  


"Melvin."   
  


"Will you both stop it!" Picard shouted, fighting to remain in control.   
  


Byers nodded sympathetically. "I know what you're going through, Captain. I have to put up with this every day." He held up the bottle of Romulan ale. "Here, have a drink."   
  


"Hey, Captain! This is the future, right? So where are all the hot alien chicks?"   
  


Picard stared at Frohike for a minute, then raised his head and looked to the ceiling. "Author? Will you please get these men off my ship?"   
  


"Hey, Langly."   
  


"Yeah, Frohike?"   
  


"Who the hell is he talking to?"   
  


Langly shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe you drove him completely nuts."   
  


"No, boys, he's talking to me. I'm afraid that _I'm_ the one driving the poor man nuts."   
  


The Gunmen jumped and looked all around the room. "Who's zat?" Frohike slurred.   
  


"_That_ is the Author. She's the reason you're here." Picard slumped to the floor. "Author, I'm begging you. Send them back to their time."   
  


"Whoa, trippy! So, why are we here?" Langly asked.   
  


"Nevermind why. Jean-Luc, if you really want them gone, there's one thing you have to do first."   
  


"What?" Picard asked wearily.   
  


"The 'Macerena'."   
  


"What's that?"   
  


The three Gunmen began laughing hysterically. "It's this horrible song and dance that was a trend in the late nineteen-nineties," Langly gasped breathlessly.   
  


Frohike grinned devilishly. "Whoo-hoo, c'mon Captain, we'll teach you. Langly knows all the moves."   
  


"I do not, _Melvin_!"   
  


"Yes you do. Don't lie."   
  


Once again, Byers held out the bottle of Romulan ale. "Ready for that drink now, Captain?"   
  


* * *   
  


"Hey, Langly?"   
  


"Mmrph. Whatta ya want, Frohike?"   
  


"I just had the wiggiest dream about getting drunk on a spaceship and some bald guy doing the Macerena."   
  


"That wasn't a dream. Go look at your computer."   
  


"Hey! Where did these files come from?" Frohike looked up from the monitor in wonder.   
  


"Don't you remember? The Author finally decided we were on the _Enterprise_ so we could bring those files back for Mulder and Scully."   
  


"Oh, right. Say, did she ever explain why she wanted the captain guy to do the Macerena?"   
  


Langly shrugged. "Nope. I think she's just kind of sadistic."   
  


"Oh. Hey, did we happen to bring back any of that blue booze? That was some damn good stuff."   
  


"I don't think Byers would agree with that." Langly smirked.   
  


A tortured moan escaped from the closed bathroom door.   
  


Frohike shook his head. "Huh. Some people just shouldn't drink."   
  
  
  
  
  


_The End_

_* * * *_

_(c) 2000 Jamie August_   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


   [1]: #augustdragon81@netscape.net



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